All's Fair In
by dytabytes
Summary: Love isn't always romantic or true. Sometimes it is manufactured in origin. Does that make it any less real?


**Title:** All's Fair In  
**Fandom:** Transformers  
**Characters:** Jazz, Prowl, Jazz/Prowl in a way  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Story Summary:** Love isn't always romantic or true. Sometimes it is manufactured in origin. Does that make it any less real?

* * *

Brightly painted pinwheels spun in the wind, fluttering in a blur of vivid shades of purples and greens and blues as the sun shone warmly.

Prowl held tightly to his lover's hand, gazing around dispassionately.

"Jazz, I should be working on mission reports, not gallivanting about at a- a fun fair!"

He glared disapprovingly at his companion. Jazz just shrugged it off and grinned.

"Hey, chill out, Prowl! It's just a little break! Primus knows ya need one, ya workaholic!"

Prowl rolled his eyes, but smiled ever so slightly as he let Jazz drag him around the booths.

"Fine, but only because it is my job to keep you out of trouble."

* * *

_You approach the head of your unit, bowing your head in a respectful nod._

_"Designate Monochrome."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Your mission this time is to be long-term and ... specialized."_

_You nod, knowing that this kind of assignment was inevitable._

_"There is a mech in a position of power. He's currently stable, but we wish to ensure his continued mental health."_

_Another nod and you accept the photos, memorizing the new target's looks as you wait for your handler to finish speaking. He's a handsome mech, but what really catches your attention is his rank in relation to the Prime._

_"How am I supposed to get in contact with him?"_

_"Well, a position has just opened up..."_

* * *

Jazz was strolling through the hallways of his new home: the Ark. It was strange to finally be at the head of his unit, although really, he should have expected it. Saboteurs never stayed in the same place for very long at all. It wasn't in their programming to settle down.

"Er, excuse me? Excuse me?"

Jazz's head jerked around as he was surprised out of his reverie. A black and white mech was coming towards him, gaze lowered in embarrassment.

"I just transferred to this post from Iacon and ... well, I seem to have gotten lost on my way to the security center."

Jazz smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Well, I'm actually new here as well," the mech's door-wings slumped ever so slightly with disappointment and Jazz hastily continued, "but I'd be happy to look around with ya!"

A hesitant smile made its way across the stranger's face.

"I would appreciate that very much- Ah! My apologies, I didn't catch your name...?"

"Oh! The name's Jazz! I'm the new head of Special Ops. What's _your_ name, my mech?"

Jazz grinned winningly and held out a hand. The other chuckled and accepted it. His grip was firm and confident as he replied.

"My name is Prowl. I am the new military strategist for this ship." Prowl paused, then continued. "It is nice to meet you, Jazz."

"Same here! And hey," Jazz slung an arm around Prowl's shoulder as they started walking down the hall together, "I'm lookin' forward to workin' with ya too!"

Prowl just smiled skittishly and flicked his door-wings as if he was unsure of what to do in response.

"Ah... right then."

* * *

_"We have found that love has a very strong stabilizing effect on the psyches of mechs."_

_You'd like to laugh at this statement, but refrain. Your handler does have a point._

_"So you want me to seduce him?"_

_"Not precisely... this mech isn't one to take to just anyone. What he needs is a challenge, someone to yearn for..."_

* * *

"Prowl, any reason why you're starin'?"

Jazz didn't even turn, noting Prowl's guilty look of surprise out of the corner of his eye as he focussed his gaze back on his computer screen.

"I am not staring, Jazz."

Jazz turned his chair around slowly and stood, slowly padding towards Prowl's chair.

"I don't think so, you slagger! You've been watchin' me for weeks and I'm not waitin' any longer for you to make a move."

Jazz's hands were on his hips and he was grinning cheekily. He leaned in when the other mech turned around, nose practically touching the other mech's.

"Y'know, it's okay to admit that you like me. I'd be down with it."

Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"Oh really?"

Jazz smiled and winked.

"Yeah, really."

And before Prowl could respond, Jazz leaned in and pressed their lips together. He couldn't help but grin when Prowl tentatively started kissing back.

* * *

_"And when I have achieved that level of intimacy?"_

_"Maintain it until you are contacted with new orders, or until the target's position changes negatively."_

_You nod, eyes bright and calculating. This may turn out to be a challenge worthy of your skill._

* * *

It was dusk and Jazz and Prowl sat side by side watching the sky from a hill overlooking the Ark. Prowl held Jazz's hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the back. Stiffly, he cleared his throat, trying to get Jazz's attention. The other mech turned his gaze away from the sunset and cocked his head to the side.

"Prowl?"

"Jazz... thank you."

"Fer what, Prowl?"

"For pulling me out of my shell. For putting up with my stand-offishness. For staying with me. I... I appreciate it very much."

Prowl's gaze was solemn and his voice low and husky and full of honest truth. Jazz grinned brilliantly and pecked Prowl on the cheek.

"But Prowl, there's no need to thank me! Keepin' you happy's just part of my job, doncha know?"

The two of them laughed quietly together. Jazz checked the time randomly and leapt to his feet, cursing. His favourite TV show was coming on and he'd be damned if hew as going to miss it.

He never noticed that he'd pulled Prowl with him as he ran back to the Ark, nor did he ever realize that they'd held hands even as he dashed into the common room to take over the TV. Prowl did, though, and there was a little smile of satisfaction on his face as he settled down and let his lover do what he wanted. He still had a little break time left, after all.

* * *

_"Monochrome, you accept your assignment?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_As you get up, you rub a hand over your chevron and flip your doorwings. A challenge, he'd said. Well, you'd never been bad at strategy..._


End file.
